


i'm not ready for this sort of thing

by bookstvnerdlove



Series: red swan [1]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-29
Updated: 2014-09-29
Packaged: 2018-02-19 06:42:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2378627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookstvnerdlove/pseuds/bookstvnerdlove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Emma Swan does not believe in soul mates, so on the morning of her eighteenth birthday, she doesn’t strip down in front of a mirror, inspecting every inch of her skin, seeking the mark that will lead her to her perfect match.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i'm not ready for this sort of thing

Emma Swan does not believe in soul mates, so on the morning of her eighteenth birthday, she doesn’t strip down in front of a mirror, inspecting every inch of her skin, seeking the mark that will lead her to her perfect match.

The mirror is dingy and cracked, an old relic leftover in the abandoned house outside Portland. She’s splitting the roof with several other kids - mostly ones like her, bailed out of the system early, looking for a better way.

(The joke’s on them, they soon learn, there are no better ways in this life.)

Some of the other kids have been through this already, making a show of their marks. But Emma thinks (though never says) they’re all full of crap. It’s easy enough to get inked and say it just appeared. 

(In the end that’s what she does. She gets a small flower on the inside of her wrist and says that it showed up while she was asleep.)

.

Neal’s a believer, which is why he eventually leaves her. He claims it’s because he’s wanted for some crime or another. (Aren’t they all?) But really, she know’s it’s about the mark. She seen him stare at her tattoo for hours at a time, his hands tracing her skin, pretending that they don’t return to the sensitive skin at her wrist, memorizing the mark. (Hating the mark.)

She never tells him the truth because one night he gets drunk and shows her the small bell on his ankle and swears that he loves her (he does, he does - he repeats) but doesn’t it  _mean_  something?

He leaves in the middle of the night, sneaking out of their shared home with a backpack full of money. 

(Some of it was hers, damn him. They’d earned it together, she should have gotten a cut.)

.

When she meets Ruby Lucas, she’s fresh out of prison (it turns out that Neal did leave something behind for her after all, but all it got her was shame and kid born in a local hospital, legs shackled, and quickly given a better chance.) She’s tending bar at a local joint that doesn’t care much that she’s done some time and has no home. They let her stay in the furnished room upstairs and they take her rent out of her wages. 

(She doesn’t make much in tips, but she learns how to hide the money under the floorboard, saving it for that nebulous dream of  _future._ )

.

Ruby came into the bar with her glossy dark hair and her shiny red lips one Thursday evening. She had been with a group of friends and they laughed in delight at the real jukebox in the corner and the selection of sad cowboy songs from the 1950s. Her male friend - tall and blond - handed her some change and she scanned the selections. 

Emma had been headed back to re-tap the keg when she leaned over and said, “If I hear that song one more time today, I’m going to punch somebody." 

Her arm rested on the machine and as Ruby had glanced up to reply, her gaze caught by the tattoo, the other woman started and gasped, "I’m Ruby." 

"Emma,” she had tossed over her shoulder, as she had continued to the back. 

.

She figured she would never see them again, but she was wrong.

.

Ruby comes by every Thursday and spends an hour or two chatting with Emma. Thursdays are usually slow at this bar - a dive on the wrong side of town, if there ever was need for such a cliche. But there are a few regulars who like to come in and overtip. 

Emma has almost saved up enough to make a move - to school, to another town, another job. She’s not sure which, yet, and there’s something about this bar she’s come to love. 

So she stays on longer than planned.

.

She tells herself that it’s not because of a certain brunette regular who drinks her whiskey straight, leaving a smudge of lipstick on her glass when she leaves. 

.

Ruby stays until closing one night, and she watches as Emma wipes down the counter. 

"My friends want to meet you," she says, startling Emma from her task. 

The jukebox has been playing some Patsy Cline (Emma’s favorite), though sometimes Ruby slips in some Dolly Parton (her favorite), until just seconds before Ruby speaks. 

Emma’s not sure how, but the silence after Ruby speaks is almost as frightening as the words she had just uttered. 

"Why?" She asks, and she knows that it comes out much harsher than she feels. She tries to soften it with a, "I mean, I’ve met them once before? That first night?"

Ruby shakes her head and smiles. “That was before.” And she stands up on the ledge below the bar, giving her just enough room to lean over the counter.

"Before what?" Emma asks, Ruby’s face inching closer to hers.

"Before this." 

(And then Ruby’s lips are on hers and Emma could swear that her chest might tighten and implode. In a good way.)

.

Weeks later, when Ruby is just drunk enough, she takes off her shirt and unclasps her bra and on her back, in a place usually hidden by the lacy material she likes to wear, is a small flower, an exact copy of Emma’s. 

"How?" Emma asks, her fingers tracing Ruby’s skin. "Mine isn’t  _real_.”

The other woman shrugs, “But mine  _is._ ”


End file.
